


Not Quite Florence Nightingale

by toesohnoes



Category: Leverage
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-13
Updated: 2011-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardison is injured on a case. Eliot doesn't make the best nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Florence Nightingale

By the time they make it home, Hardison's arm is in a sling and his cuts are stitched shut, but that doesn't mean that Eliot is willing to leave his side. He's been glaring at anyone stupid enough to get close, even other members of the team, and his hand is always hovering near the small of Hardison's back or the crook of his elbow, ready to catch him - just in case.

"I'm alright," Hardison reminds him. "It's not like I broke my legs."

Eliot grunts. He doesn't trust himself to say a damn word right now, because they spent five hours looking for Hardison, five hours of stress and hell and the steady knowledge that maybe this time they weren't going to be okay. Maybe this time their luck had finally screwed them over.

The others drift away but Eliot stays in place, irritating Hardison by raking through his things and putting it all out of place in nervous curiosity. The apartment feels too quiet and he can't check out of the windows often enough. There's nothing outside but a dark street and empty parked cars. Doesn't mean they're safe.

"Will you sit down? You're making me nervous," Hardison orders, kicking a cushion from the couch in his direction. With Hardison's sternest frown beaming at him, Eliot has no choice but to stoop down to pick up the badly aimed object and retreat towards the couch.

Hardison watches him, his eyes burning the side of Eliot's face, so Eliot does a damn good job of pretending he doesn't notice.

"This really has you shaken up, doesn't it?" Hardison observes, daring to sound surprise - like he doesn't already know. "Seriously, man?"

With a roll of his eyes and a quick pump of remaining adrenaline, Eliot swings out to place his hand on the nape of Hardison's neck. He swoops in, planting a rushed kiss against Hardison's forehead, hard and vicious rather than tender. Just as quickly, he lets go and slumps back down on the couch, leaving Hardison looking stunned.

"You need to take better care of yourself," Eliot explains moodily.

With Hardison's socked feet nudging against his leg, and an amused smile on Hardison's face, Eliot looks towards him and feels the residual anger begin to melt away.


End file.
